Son of Xerxes, Soul of Amestris
by Lady Aramis
Summary: When young Roma gets bored one day, madness ensues as he stumbles into ancient Xerxes and befriends young Van Hoenheim. This friendship has long-reaching consequences for not only the two friends, but for Hoenheim's two sons as well. Edward Elric grows up trying to figure out his strange connection to Amestris. Rated T for some violence and language. Rating may go up as necessary.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I actually started this fic a few months ago, and I haven't been able to put it down. Right now, I've got three chapters (2&3 are unedited, though), and I'm still writing! I will probably post a chapter once a week. I really hope you like it!**

**Oh, by the way, this chapter has some massive spoilers for Episode 40 of the FMA Brotherhood anime, as well as a crash-course overview of Roman history.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood or Hetalia. T.T**

**Thanks to my beta, Mother Porthos, for editing this giant chapter. :P I love you, my diminutive comrade!**

* * *

**Son of Xerxes, Soul of Amestris**

**or**

**What Happens When Rome is Bored**

_Chapter 1_

_543B.C.—_

Roma was bored. His citizens were happy; the king was efficient. Life was good in the small kingdom of Roma. Of course, because life was so good, there was absolutely nothing for young Roma to do—no wars to fight, no economy problems to help fix.

Due to a significant lack of close neighbors, there was also no one for the young kingdom to talk to, and the humans of his little nation were too much in awe of him to be good conversationalists. There was Sister Hellas, of course, but she was far to the east, across the sea. And she was his big sister, anyway. All she ever did was gush over how big he was growing, and how she just knew that he would become a grand empire someday.

'Easy for her to say,' Roma grumbled to himself. 'For the past two centuries she's been growing pretty grand herself, what with all the colonization and organization going on over there.' Roma sighed wistfully, making a wish he had dreamed of many times before. 'If only there were others like Sister and I. Having someone else I could relate to would be amazing.'

Eventually the king, Servius Tullius, became quite exasperated with the young kingdom's continual restless boredom, and told Roma as much. "If you're so eager for excitement, go and find some, boy! Stop pacing ruts in my floor!"

At first, Roma was stunned by the very idea. 'Leave? Just... run off looking for adventure?'

Then, the more he thought on it, the more Roma liked the idea. So, armed with only a pack and the sword Rex Romulus had given him, Roma set out in search of another nation. It was after only a few days' travel that he found more adventure than the young kingdom had ever bargained for.

**SoX~RE**

Evening was approaching, and Roma was traveling north through the foothills of a mountain-range east of Roma. He was searching for a place to set up camp for the night when he found it.

Roma had been going through a large, dry cave, checking for wolves and other predators when he dropped his torch. "Dī immortālēs!" He swore, furious with himself. Roma was deep in the cave, and without his torch he was surrounded by impenetrable darkness.

Hands outstretched, Roma blindly searched for the wall of the cave. Finding it, he walked along, his hands resting on the rough stone. After a while of walking with no sign of the cave entrance, Roma began to wonder if he had been going in the wrong direction. "Maybe...maybe I should turn back." He whispered, his voice echoing in the dark space despite its quiet tone.

Then, as though it had been triggered by the sound of his voice, a faint white light suddenly appeared. Roma, thinking it was daylight, hurried to investigate. He turned the corner quickly, running headlong into the back of the cave. The light was shining through a narrow crack at the center of the cave wall. Roma ran his hands over its surface. The stone was carved flat, and strange symbols were engraved on its surface. "A wall?" Roma muttered in confusion. Then, in dawning comprehension, he exclaimed, "No, not a wall! They're like the doors on some of my sister's old temples down by the coast!"

'Maybe this is a way out of the cave,' he thought in excitement. Carefully, Roma put his fingers in the crack, opening one of the doors. Roma squinted, blinded by the blast of bright light.

As his eyes adjusted to the glare, Roma was startled to see a vast white expanse instead of the mountainous countryside he had anticipated. Filled with curiosity, Roma walked forward. As he crossed the threshold, the large stone door slammed shut behind him. At that sound, Roma whirled to face the now closed doors, trying desperately to open them again.

"Hello," a creepy voice behind him said.

Roma spun around again, drawing his sword. He saw a white figure seated on the floor some distance from him. Behind it was a set of doors identical to the ones he had come through. The seated figure was barely discernible from the space around it and had a vaguely humanoid silhouette.

"Wha...what's going on?" Roma asked in a wavering voice. "Where am I?"

"You have come to the Portal," the figure stated, grinning disturbingly.

"Portal?" Roma asked, bewildered. "What sort of portal?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And who are you, anyway?"

The figure frowned. "Who am I? I believe the better question is 'Who are you?'" Upon seeing Roma's mouth opening in a retort, it calmly continued. "I am what you would call the universe, or the world, or perhaps God, or perhaps the Truth. I am all, and I am one, but somehow... somehow I am not you."

"God?" Roma repeated incredulously. "That's ridiculous. God is a concept humans invented to explain the world."

The stranger gave him another disturbing smile, asking in amusement, "Then you are not human? What could you be, if you are not human?"

Roma stood straight and proud. "I am Roma. I am the person of the REGVM ROMANVM, and the embodiment of its people." He paused, giving Truth a hard glare. "You never answered my other question."

Truth stared at him in fascination. "The human personification of a whole nation..." it murmured softly. "My, my." A cruel smile appeared on its face, and Truth spoke almost as if it was talking to itself. "I understand now. You and I are from different worlds." Shaking itself, Truth then answered him. "This is the Portal of Truth. If you passed through it, you will see the truth of my world." It paused, obviously debating something. Seemingly having made up its mind, Truth added, "Once you have passed through it, you might be able to visit my world whenever you wish."

Roma's eyes widened. "Really? How?"

The strange figure's grin broadened. "You will know after you see the Truth."

Roma could almost feel the capital letters in 'truth'. Despite a nagging wariness, Roma walked through the Portal.

**VH~SoX**

Everything hurt, but the worst was his head. It felt as though an angry tribe of Etruscans were pounding a war-beat on his skull. He could feel the sun's rays beating down on his skin.

After some time, he became aware of a strange voice speaking. "-ulo? Saғulo?" Roma's eyes opened to be faced with eyes the color of molten gold. "Ju kamin coles?"[1]

Roma blinked, clutching his head as he sat up. He moaned softly. _'That bastard Truth!'_ Roma thought furiously.

"Ju Kamin Coles?" the golden-eyed person repeated inquiringly. He was a tall human with hair the same color as his eyes. Roma judged him to be around 16 or 17 years old.

Roma stared at him blankly. "Ubi…sum? Quo tuum es?"[2]

The youth frowned. "Scire Cselkessan tores? Maғe cole Cselkessan."[3] Oddly enough, one of the words in that incomprehensible babble stood out. Cselkessan. _Xerxian._

It was as if a little light had gone off in the back of his head. Roma remembered from the mass of knowledge granted to him by the Portal that Xerxes was a great nation in this world. Also, Roma suddenly recalled, the strange Portal had also given him some familiarity with the language. Concentrating now, he focused on the Xerxian's words. "Aғ auximer ju putis." _Let me help you._

Roma shook his head. "I'm fine!" he snapped in passable Xerxian, pushing away the older boy's hands.

The Xerxian's lips quirked into a sort of half-smile. "So you _can_ understand me." His sharp voice was amused, but had a rather suspicious undertone. "What is a foreigner—a little boy, at that—doing here, in my master's house?"

Roma scowled at being called a 'little boy'. The comment was incredibly annoying, mostly because physically it was true. Despite actually being nearly two hundred years old, Roma's body seemed to be closer to six or seven. It was frustrating, being so small. His more recent bosses usually thought he was good for nothing, and refused to let him fight because that was "man's work", despite the fact that Roma had been trained extensively in combat since he could lift a toy sword, and was actually older than them. The only king who had ever been older than him was Romulus, his city's founder and Roma's namesake.

The kingdom glared at the Xerxian. "My name is Roma, and I don't even know _where_ I am, so I can't tell you what I'm doing here." He paused, annoyed with the sun's glare and his aching head, before snapping resentfully, "Who are you, anyway? What's your name?"

The Xerxian's annoyance and suspicion were melting away to be replaced by rather obvious amusement. "You are in the house of my master, Tolleras Demoғ, in the capital city of Xerxes. As for myself, well…I-I'm Slave No. 23."

Though he was calm when he said it, Roma could see the Xerxian's expression tighten upon saying his number. Roma frowned. "I don't want some number; I asked for your _name_."

The youth gave him a strange look. "You sound just like…" he then trailed off, falling silent. Shaking himself, the Xerxian stood straighter and said "My name is Van Hoenheim."

Roma grinned, his dark mood suddenly gone. "Van of Hoenheim, that's a handsome name, ve~!"

Van relaxed as well, examining the young boy with amusement and some curiosity.

He was obviously foreign, with his dark eyes and wild brown curls. His dress was strange too. The boy was wearing a fine white tunic with a purple sash crossing his chest. He wore a strange half-crown of green leaves on his head, and had a sword strapped across his back which appeared to be designed for an adult, not a child. His clothing and healthy face screamed wealth and privilege, but he had an instinctive wariness that spoke of mistreatment or neglect, and he moved like a fighter.

Additionally, the strange boy had literally appeared out of nowhere. Van had been working in this courtyard only moments earlier, sweeping the carved flagstones clean. After he had finished, Van had realized that he had forgotten a dustpan, and had been returning after having retrieved one when he stumbled over the child. It was—how would Homunculus put it?—ah yes, _most peculiar_.

Van was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts by an inquiring voice. "What happened to your arm?" He jerked back as the boy—'_Roma, he said'_—touched the bandage on his arm. Roma looked worried and inquisitive at the same time. It was rather cute.

Van laughed. "It's nothing. My master needed some of my blood for an experiment, but that was over a week ago. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

The boy stared at him in bewilderment. "An experiment? What sort of experiment?" Roma asked, obviously fascinated.

The young man, looking proud, said, "It was for an alchemy experiment—my master is a great scientist." He turned to Roma, smiling. "Would you like to see? It's the most amazing thing."

Roma blinked, simultaneously curious and confused. "O-okay," he replied hesitantly.

Van smirked. "Follow me."

The Xerxian led Roma into the grand building behind them, turning down a long corridor. He walked quickly, turning corners and going down staircases (which the young nation was absolutely entranced by, having never seen stairs _inside_ a building), little Roma hurrying behind. They finally came to a small room with one tiny barred window near the ceiling on the back wall.

"Hey, Homunculus!" Van exclaimed, startling the young kingdom. The Xerxian's words were addressed to a large flask sitting on the low table below the window. There appeared to be a black cloud floating inside it. Roma shivered, feeling apprehensive, though he didn't know why.

"Welcome back, Van Hoenheim. Who is that with you?" The voice was raspy and strangely pitched, and it was coming_ from the __**thing**__ in the flask!_

Roma yelped in shock, shouting, "Quid infernum? Quidnam illud est?"[4] He stopped yelling abruptly, blushing when he realized he had slipped into latinum in his alarm. "Ah…sorry about that…em… did that black mist just speak?"

Van stared at him curiously, but simply said, "It's alright; and yes, the black mist did speak." He gestured to the black cloud. "This is Homunculus; he was created by my master using my blood. He has been teaching me for the past several days now."

Roma came closed, staring into the flask. The amorphous cloud seemed to shift, and a large eye opened in its center. The iris was a dark burgundy, almost purple. A mouth appeared under the eye as the thing—_Homunculus_—said, "What is your name, little boy?"

"R-Roma," he replied unsurely.

"Is that so?" it asked. "Tell me, what was that language you spoke? I have never heard it before—it is unusual for me to not know something."

Roma frowned. He didn't know why, but the Homunculus reminded him of Truth—and the young kingdom didn't like that _at all_. Still, Roma saw no harm in answering, so he said, "I was speaking latinum, the _lingua_, or language, of my citizens."

"_Your_ citizens?" Van asked, startled. "Are you royalty?"

Roma grinned shyly. "Something like that." Then, changing the subject, he asked, "Do you think your master would let me stay here? I'm kind of lost," he admitted sheepishly. "It will be some time before I can return home." And it would be some time. He would have to manually sift through the knowledge Truth had given him to learn the method of returning to his own world, and Roma had no idea how long that would take.

Van's eyes widened. "Were you looking for my master when you collapsed?" he asked. The young slave was worried—the master would be angry if his slave had delayed an important guest, even if the guest was just a child. His master was very strict on showing courtesy to visitors.

Roma, grateful for a logical explanation of how he had come to be in the courtyard, and oblivious to his new friend's near-panic, replied "Yes, I was. He wasn't expecting me, though. I had heard of him from someone in the city," Roma fabricated, lying through his teeth, "and I thought that I might ask him for hospitality during my stay in Xerxes."

Van jumped up. "Let me bring you to him!" he exclaimed.

Roma blinked, surprised at the abruptness. "Right now?" At Van's nod, he grinned. "Okay, let's go then, ve~!"

Van led him back up the stairs, turning this time onto a large, grand corridor with carpets and beautiful tapestries. Roma gazed about him in wonder, awe written across his face. "Your master must be very rich," he murmured. "Rex Tullius does not even have a house as grand as this."

Van glanced at him inquisitively. "Who is Rex Tullius?"

Roma grinned, happy to talk about his king. "Servius Tullius is the king of my homeland. 'Rex' is the Latium word for king. He is very strong, and an excellent fighter. Tullius is very effective, as kings go." Roma smiled at Van.

Van grinned back, and then repeated in amusement, "'as kings go'? Seen many of them, have you?" The kingdom of Roma laughed, but did not answer.

The two eventually came to an ornate set of double-doors. Roma swore they had gold paneling. Van knocked on them. "Come in," a voice answered calmly. Van glanced at Roma before pushing one door open.

"Master, you have a foreign visitor," he said quietly. Roma gaped, startled by the young man's unexpectedly submissive demeanor.

"A visitor?" a smooth baritone voice queried. Van gestured Roma into the room.

The room was large and well-lit with tall windows. Shelves filled with scrolls and wooden tablets lined every available wall space. Hanging on the wall opposite the doors was an enormous tapestry that had an elaborate crest stitched on it.

At the center of the room was a grand desk made out of some strange dark wood. Sitting at the desk was a tall bald man with bushy yellow eyebrows. Roma was struck by the similarity between the two Xerxians' features. Both had the same bright yellow hair and their eyes were the color of molten gold. Roma idly wondered whether the two were related, or if the golden coloration was just a Xerxian trait.

The man—Demoғ, Van had called him—smiled at Roma. "And who are you, young man?"

The deceptively-youthful child returned his smile shyly. "My name is Roma, Domine[5] Demoғ. I have come to humbly request your aid."

Demoғ looked curious. "My aid? What do you mean?"

Roma's smile grew more confident at the sign that the man was actually listening. _'That didn't happen often.'_ "I only wish for sanctuary. I am trapped here, in this place, and cannot get home."

The Xerxian's eyebrows rose. "You are trapped here? I don't understand."

Roma hesitated, and then began his story. He hedged around why he had been away from his kingdom—only saying that he had been traveling—and also skipped parts of his conversation with Truth (namely, the sections where he was discussing his true nature as a nation). While Roma was sure both Van and Demoғ were trustworthy, he did not believe the same of the Homunculus, and both men were closely associated with it, so Roma had decided to keep the fact of his…invulnerability…to himself. He finished with explaining that he was sure Truth had given him the means to return home, but it would take a while to coax the knowledge out of his memory.

Demoғ leaned back in his chair. "Well, then," he said slowly. "That is quite something."

"You—you do believe me, don't you, domine?" Roma asked, rather desperately.

"Oh, I certainly believe you," Demoғ reassured him. "I have seen too many astounding things through the course of my research to dismiss the supernatural out of hand. And as for your situation, you are without a doubt welcome to stay here as long as you need to—it would be cruel to leave a child tricked into a different _universe_ out in the cold. Besides, if you feel you need to pay me…well, I would not be averse to learning any details on the differences between your world and ours. That would be a fascinating study to present to the Alchemists' Society, don't you think, No. 23?" He finished, turning to Van. Van looked incredibly disconcerted at being included in the conversation, but nodded hesitantly.

"Yes, master. It would be very fascinating indeed." Van visibly hesitated, before he ventured, "Perhaps I could help, sir?"

Demoғ looked entertained. "Do you think you could, No. 23?"

"Why do you call him that?" Roma broke in.

Demoғ turned to Roma in surprise. "Pardon?"

Roma pulled a face. "Why do you call him 'No. 23' instead of using his name? It just seems rather demeaning to me."

Demoғ frowned at him. "By his name?" the man then shook his head. "Slaves don't have names. They are given a number at birth, which is used in place of a name."

Roma was confused now. "But he _told_ me his name. How could he tell me a name if he doesn't have one?"

Demoғ, still frowning, focused on Van. "So what name did he give you?"

"His name is Van Hoenheim," Roma answered. Then, scowling, he inserted snidely, "You could just ask Van, you know. He's not deaf or mute." There was a pause, and then he added "Domine," though his tone was anything but respectful.

"Van Hoenheim, eh?" Demoғ said softly, still examining his young slave. "Tell me…Hoenheim. How did you come up with a name like that?" Van stared studiously at his feet, still acting unnervingly demure, in Roma's opinion. "Well?" Demoғ asked.

Chancing a glance up at him, Van was relieved to see that his master was currently more amused than angry. Feeling a bit bolder, Van said, "I…didn't actually think of it myself. The Homunculus… downstairs in the flask… he gave me my name."

Demoғ looked startled, but contemplative at the same time. "Now why would Homunculus bother to do that? He barely speaks with me," he mused softly.

The young slave hesitated, and then replied, "When I met him… The Homunculus told me that it was my blood that created him—that it was because of me he existed. He insisted on giving me a name as repayment." Van faltered again, before tentatively continuing "The Homunculus also…has been teaching me."

Demoғ's gaze sharpened on his slave. "And _what_ exactly has my experiment been teaching you?"

Van scuffed his toe along the line of a flagstone, avoiding the man's intense stare. "He's been teaching me…well…everything," he admitted. "Reading and writing—he even wants me to memorize the table of Substances, and the basic rules of Alchemy." He looked up, staring worriedly at his master. "It hasn't interfered with my work though! I make sure that I've completed all my chores before I go to see Homunculus."

Demoғ laughed out loud. "Well, as long as your work isn't being hampered, I see no harm in it, child. I'm just glad to have proof the Homunculus can communicate. As I said before, he's only spoken to me once or twice." The man paused, glancing at Roma with a thoughtful expression before turning back to Van. "Tell me…Hoenheim. Do you enjoy your time with the Homunculus?"

Van's eyes sparkled. "Oh yes, master! I love being able to learn from him. Homunculus is so knowledgeable, and he is a masterful teacher."

Demoғ smiled. "I see… and would you enjoy spending time with young Roma, here?"

Wondering what his master was getting at, Van honestly answered, "Yes, I would, master."

The bald man nodded sharply. "Very well then. No. 23, I am relieving you of your former chores—be sure to ensure that they are assigned to someone else. Your new duties will be to study and monitor my Homunculus experiment…" he trailed off, pleased at the delight on the young slave's face, before resuming, "and you will also be assigned as caretaker to our young guest." Demoғ gestured to Roma.

In a very short time after that, Van had whisked Roma away to a set of guest's rooms near the grand study. A group of female slaves had been brought in to make him clothing and bring him food (Xerxians did not eat with foreigners), and the young kingdom was exhausted. Never in his relatively-long life had Roma experienced so much pampering. While held in high regard back home, the people never saw any need to spend extra wealth on the city's personification—after all, he was a manifestation of their beings, so if they had riches, he must have them as well. Romulus had spoiled him, true, but the nation had not been rich by any means back then, and the reign of the first king of Roma passed in an instant by Roma's reckoning.

Van, himself, was incredibly happy with his new assignment. _'No more drudging in the back rooms for me! I'm moving up in the world, just like Homunculus said I could if I improved myself.'_ He also liked Roma a great deal, despite the boy's youth, so it would be no hardship to act as the child's babysitter and bodyguard.

Time seemed to pass rapidly for both of them. Roma himself was astounded by how close he and Van had become. One of the occupational hazards of being a personification of an entire country meant that Roma aged incredibly slowly, so friends he made as children grew up before he had aged the equivalent of a day, and most were too much in awe of and simultaneously condescending towards him to properly socialize after they had reached adulthood, but Van was different. Van didn't pay any mind to their difference in age (though the Xerxian didn't know he had it backwards) and always made time for Roma, going above and beyond his master's orders.

Roma explored all of the capital city of Xerxes, fascinated by the strange world he now occupied. He saw the crest hanging behind Demoғ's desk as well as any time he went out into the city.

The outside of the crest was a large serpent wrapped in a circle eating its own tail. Van told Roma that this serpent symbolized infinity. Inside the serpent-circle was an elaborate matrix composed of a pentacle overlaid with a reverse pentagram and a series of complex lines. All of these shapes were lined with script in a foreign language.

At first, Roma assumed this script was the writing of Xerxes, but conversation with Van revealed that no one really knew what language the script was, or what it really meant. The Xerxian claimed that according to legend, the entire crest had been a gift to Xerxes from _Veritai_, the sort-of deity of the Xerxian people who had taught their first emperor how to perform alchemy (or lianjii, in Xerxian).

It didn't escape Roma's notice that Veritai was the Xerxian word for God, but could also be used for the Universe, or the World, or One, or All, or even _Truth_.

Remembering Demoғ's request, Roma also kept a log of the differences he saw between this world and his own. He was fascinated by the exceptionally peaceful nature of Xerxes—a stark contrast to how very war-oriented Roma's own group had been from the death of Remus at Romulus' hands.

The disparities in national coloration also greatly intrigued the young state. Where his people's skin was olive and their hair and eyes were dark, the people of Xerxes were all gold and bronze. The people's habit of being clean-shaven also greatly intrigued him, as the men of Roma wore long beards and equally long hair. Demoғ was soon delighted with the large journal Roma gifted him with, and grew ecstatic at the knowledge that the boy had no intention of ending his chronicle.

The master of the house also quickly became awestruck by the skills of his previously-unremarkable slave, as Van quickly proved to be a brilliant young man. He managed (with some help from Roma and tutelage from Homunculus) to master reading in a matter of weeks, and he began learning about alchemy only one lunar cycle after Roma's arrival. Demoғ's opinion of the young slave continued to rise with the youth's improvement, until finally he decided to make Van Hohenheim his unofficial apprentice and official assistant.

Life was good in the Demoғ household, and Roma had almost forgotten about his need to return home. Almost.

Roma's connection to his people and his land was as strong as ever, and signs of that bond were incredibly telling. Roma would occasionally find himself starving for days on bad times for crops, and wounds would appear on his limbs sporadically as the Etruscans continued to make war on his king.

From the knowledge Roma had gained going through the Portal, he knew that time would likely pass differently between the two worlds, and Roma could feel years go by sporadically, sometimes in the space of an evening, other times over the course of a few months. Roma had actually explained this to both Van and Demoғ as an explanation for why he never seemed to grow older.

One afternoon almost nine full lunar cycles after Roma's arrival in Xerxes, the most violent of these 'signs' revived Roma's resolve to return home to his people.

Roma had been playing a ball game with a group of young slave boys just after the noon meal. Roma dodged a larger boy, jumping up to catch the ball being thrown towards him. As his hands grasped the leather ball, a sudden shock ran through the kingdom's body, sending him to his knees in an overwhelming wave of pain and anguish.

There was a ringing in Roma's ears, and his heart felt as though it had been stabbed and trampled in the streets. His hearing seemed to wax and wane, the alarmed shouts of the blonde slave boys fading in and out. Suddenly, Van was there, picking the trembling boy up and holding him close.

Roma was barely aware of being carried down the halls to his room and placed in his bed, but later he clearly remembered Van murmuring soothing nonsense and kind reassurances in his ears the whole while. "It's alright, Roma," the young man whispered helplessly to his friend shaking and convulsing on the bed. "Eve-everything will be better soon."

Roma choked out a hysterical half-sob/half-laugh. "No," he sniffled miserably, shaking with the anguish and fury of his citizens. "It _won't_." He then buried his face in his friend's chest, ignoring Van's concerned questions, and cried brokenly with rage and helplessness. Servius Tullius had been murdered, and a tyrant now held total control over Roma's people.

After that incident, Roma was different. The kingdom's interests became more militaristic, and his temper was shorter. Roma was able to convince some of the off-duty men from the king of Xerxes' guard to train him in all different types of combat and weaponry—swords, spears, martial arts, brawling—as well as strategy and war tactics. Roma could feel the oppression and anger of his people. He was determined to ensure that the usurper did not last long after his return. It was the Roman people's will.

In accordance with those new desires, he also began studying different types of government and tried to decide what would be the best after the people had overthrown their oppressor (which Roma knew would happen eventually with or without his help), as well as how to convince people that his chosen style of rule would be best. He filled his days with research and study, barely pausing to eat or sleep.

Van had begun to grow worried about Roma. First, the boy had inexplicably fallen ill. Van had been panicked when he saw his young friend lying insensible on the ground, shaking in pain, and had felt so powerless when he couldn't do anything to help. Even now, his master's best doctors still hadn't discovered a cause, or if it might happen again. Van hoped it didn't, but there was no way of knowing.

Once Roma had recovered, the boy had trained and studied and researched with zeal unheard-of for a boy his age. Gone was the carefree, playful child. He had been replaced by a hard-faced war machine that terrified Van. Roma would read dusty war documentations late into the night, and then be up early the next morning to practice swordsmanship with the palace guard. Van was apprehensive that his young friend would burn himself out, but there seemed to be no end to Roma's stamina.

Van wasn't stupid, either. He knew Roma was hiding things. Many times, he had gone in to make sure Roma was asleep, and had seen lacerations on the child's bare arms and legs. Van began to look for when his friend would wear long sleeves and leggings so he would know when to slip a pain-soother into Roma's food. The food was another matter. Despite three healthy meals a day and numerous snacks in-between, Roma had begun to acquire a half-starved look. The boy seemed quite unconcerned by it, but Van still worried and mother-henned over his young companion. He had grown to care for the boy as his own brother, and a part of him started to hope that Roma would never leave.

Unhappily, that dreaded day came all too soon.

It happened quite unexpectedly on a quiet morning nearly three years after Roma's arrival. Van and Roma were sitting together reading in the morning sun, stacks of scrolls and wooden tablets scattered around them. Roma had recently become interested in alchemy, and despite his disappointment that he apparently didn't have an aptitude for it the kingdom had still devoured hundreds of works on it. Anything that could provide a tactical advantage was useful knowledge, after all.

Van was nearing the end of his apprenticeship, so the Xerxian was desperately cramming any knowledge which would help on his exam. He had convinced Roma to help him study in an attempt to trick the boy into taking a break from his own research. Roma had agreed, so the two had trooped outside to enjoy the nice spring weather as Roma had fun quizzing Van.

Eventually, the questioning had petered off as Roma reached the extent of his own understanding in alchemy, and the two had begun reading quietly. Abruptly, Roma stood up; rolling up the scroll he had been reading and placing it back in its cylinder.

Van looked up at him, startled. "Uh…Roma…"

"It's time for me to go," Roma said calmly.

Van gaped, frozen and at a loss for words. Then, as Roma began to walk into the house, Van jumped up, chasing after him. The Xerxian stopped only to order a young slave-boy to clear up the texts left outside.

"Wait! Roma—_wait_!" he called out, catching up with his friend at the boy's rooms. Roma was already inside, grabbing a small rucksack packed with a change of clothes and a few days' worth of food. He had his sword strapped to his back, and was wearing the outfit he had arrived in Xerxes wearing.

Van stared at him helplessly for a moment before finding his voice. "But…why?" He hesitated, then amended, "I mean…why now? I'm about to take my _Lianjun_ tests and, well…" he trailed off, hating the fact that the physically seven-year-old boy was acting more adult than the _actual_ adult in the situation.

Roma smiled sadly. "I know, and I'm sorry it's in such a rush, but it's really time for me to go. I've been here nearly three years by your reckoning, but by my nation's it's been almost half a century. I_ have_ to go back now." He paused, weighing his words. "I know you'll be a great alchemist, Van, and a great man as well."

Van drew him into a hug, repressing a sob. "What will I tell the master?" he murmured.

Roma shrugged. "Tell him I figured out how to go home." He paused again, this time with indecision, before saying hesitantly, "I…I'm going to miss you, Van. You were my first real friend in a very long time, and it's going to be lonely without you." The boy bit his lip, staring up at the blonde-haired man. Roma opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Maybe…maybe we'll meet again…someday." Van nodded, too overcome for words. Roma hesitated again. "Well…goodbye, I guess." Van nodded again.

Before Roma could change his mind, he ran out the door to the matrix he had carved into the dirt of the garden outside his rooms. Van watched through a window as Roma pressed his hands together before placing them on the matrix. A bright light built up, and when Van's vision cleared Roma was gone.

**SoX~RE**

_507B.C. to A.D.1453—_

Ages flew by. Roma's people did overthrow their tyrant, and ended up doing away with the whole monarchy as a result. Roma grew strong and tall as his nation prospered and matured into a great militarian empire.

Over the centuries, Roma ran into a number of other national personifications. As delighted as Roma was to find people like him, none of his nation friendships could make him forget Van Hohenheim. Eventually, as he grew larger and began planting colonies, Roma gained custody of many young nations he came to regard as his "children" and "grandchildren", who kept him company in his grand temple-palace of a house. Roma loved every one of them dearly, but his favorite by far was little Italia—the darling infant—later toddler—who held his heart, Rome, and whom he had nicknamed Chibitalia.

Over time, though, Roma began to feel a weakening in his nation, and instability in the leadership (which had reverted back to a monarchy-style government once again). Roma grew worried, but he wasn't overly concerned. Though he had seen fellow empires fall and fade into obscurity, Roma was confident that he could survive anything. He was _Roman Empire_ after all.

The anxiety over the state of his nation only grew after his empire was divided. One of the young ones was raised up to become the so-called Byzantine Empire, but it was still a part of Roma, and the strain of being split into two rival nations showed clearly on Roma's person. After another few centuries, Roma knew that his time left was growing short. Upon this realization, Roman Empire discovered a problem.

He didn't want to leave.

Roma did not want to leave this world without knowing what would become of his family—feisty little Britannia and his more charming neighbor Gaul, Hispania (a rival with Gaul and Britannia), Germania's infant son (also Germania), young Graecia (technically his nephew; Graecia was Sister Hellas' son), Anatolia and Palestine, Aegyptus and the many other little ones in Africa, and he especially did not want to leave his Italiae boys: his darling little Chibitalia and his twin brother Romano.

On the other hand, though, Roma also had longed for centuries to know what had become of his old friend Van Hoenheim; even after all this time he still missed the other greatly. So, with all of these desires in mind and the knowledge of the Portal of Truth in his memory, Roma came up with a desperate plan that, with a bit of luck and a _great_ deal of chance, just might work.

In theory, the plan had been simple. Roma knew that the divide between his universe and Truth's weakened Roma's connection with his people. Theoretically, if Roma was in Truth's world when his last links to his people were destroyed then he would have a greater chance of surviving it. As a bonus, Roma would be able to learn what had become of his friend Van Hoenheim and Van's master, Tolleras Demoғ.

Hypothetically, nothing could go wrong. But then, even the best-made plans are never carried through all the way, and this was _not_ the best of plans.

**VH~SoX**

Things had been going wrong right from the start.

Roma had anticipated finding both Van and Demoғ long-dead. What he had not expected at all was finding the entire nation of Xerxes deserted and in ruins.

The possibility of mass migration was negated by the sight of a barren, cracked desert where there was once been a rich, green farmland; not to mention the innumerable, sun-bleached bones lying scattered across the ground, left to gather dust after having been picked clean by scavengers. Roma had dashed about the country in a frenzied panic trying to decipher what had happened, but to no avail. There was nothing left, not even scrolls or tablets. All the wooden structures were gone; only stone was left.

Roma eventually returned to the capital, at a loss for ideas. He sat alone in the empty, dusty ruins of his old bedroom, feeling smaller and more alone than he had in centuries. Roma stared at the sand-covered marble floors, giving a melancholy sigh. His entire plan had hinged on the continued existence of Xerxes, he realized, and without that crutch he had nowhere to go.

During his time in this universe, Roma had never left Xerxes' capital city. Xerxes itself was quite uneducated as a whole on the layout of the nations surrounding it. There was nothing but snow and ice to the north, and desert-country surrounded the country on the other three sides. The people of Xerxes had been aware of small nomadic tribes, who lived in these desert regions, and there had been rumors of a young emperor unifying a number of coastal tribes far to the east, but Roma had no way to verify the centuries-old anecdotes.

A few days after his return to the capital, Roma was met by a small caravan of merchants travelling east. They were astonished to see a person living here, in the ruins, and clearly thought him a ghost or spirit. Rather than clarifying, Roma used their superstition to his advantage. He claimed that he had come here searching for his family.

The merchants were very accommodating to the "grieving spirit", and told him the whole tragic tale of Xerxes. Apparently some time ago (one merchant said five hundred years, while the other insisted it had been less than two centuries), the entire nation of Xerxes had been destroyed in a single night. None of the merchants seemed to know how it happened, but they all agreed that the whatever-it-was had killed every living person, plant, or beast within the nation's boundaries.

There had been one survivor, however, they said. He had made his way to the court of their nation's emperor to ask for refuge. The emperor had granted it, and had given the Xerxian man the title of "Sage from the West", because of the man's great wisdom and knowledge. The man had even instructed the emperor's court in a strange art which those merchants referred to as _alkeheistry_. It was used mainly for healing purposes, and had very quickly become widely popular, spreading through the clans like wildfire.

The men told him of how the man had been lauded as a great scholar and was well treated for having assisted their nation so. In fact, they told him, the man was still living in Xing.

Roma was shocked to learn of the fate of the place that he had called home for a time. He was even more devastated to imagine the fate that must have befallen his friend. Even more than that however, was his bewilderment on what to do. He couldn't travel back to Rome, because there wasn't really a Rome anymore, and if there was, there wouldn't be soon. His last connection in this land had been cut off as well, years before and without him even knowing about it.

It seemed that the merchants noticed his despair and were uncertain what to do about it. The two gathered together while Roma was distracted with his sudden crisis and conferred. Once they had come to a decision, the two caught his attention, wincing at the "almost tears" that were welling deep in his eyes. Roma was surprised and grateful to discover what they had concluded

The merchants, out of sympathy, suggested that the "ghost" travel to their homeland with them so he could meet this one survivor from Xerxes. Bereft of any other plans, Roma readily agreed. He learned that the merchants' homeland was called "Xing" after the emperor who had first united the feuding motley of coastal clans and tribes.

His son had been the one to accept the Western Sage into his court. Also, while that emperor was long-dead and buried, the man from Xerxes had not aged a day. That detail piqued Roma's interest, and his eagerness to meet this mysterious refugee grew. _'Could he tell me what happened to Van and Demoғ?'_

It took over a fortnight to cross the eastern desert and reach the borders of Xing, and then another week to come to the palace of the current Emperor of Xing. The court members greeted the group of merchants with warmth and familiarity, all the while shooting Roma curious glances. The emperor also greeted the merchants, paying them handsomely with large bars of gold for several jars of their wares, before turning to the nation. "And who…exactly…is this?" the man inquired, adjusting his bright crimson robes, which were embroidered with dragons and golden ivy.

Roma shot the emperor a winning smile (Caesar smile©77BC) and bowed flamboyantly, proclaiming "My name, great lord, is Roma Imperium Caesar Augustus and my creed is Senatus Populus Qui Romanum. I have come to your court in search of—" Roma froze abruptly midsentence. He stared in shock (and no small amount of awe) at the tall blonde man staring back at him with an expression of equal astonishment on his face.

The man was older than when Roma had last seen him, but the nation would recognize his best friend anywhere. "Van?" he exclaimed in disbelief. Van simply stared, saying nothing. Roma switched to Xerxian. "Hoenheim Van! Metrom maғe dinii ju colisti." Van still said nothing. Roma frowned, suddenly uncertain. "Ju ve'tores aғ scis?"[6]

Van's eyes narrowed, examining Roma's face. "It's…really you?" he murmured finally, speaking in Xingese. A smile then appeared on his face, playing around the corners of his mouth. "Little Roma, all grown up." He gave Roma an odd look. "You've changed, old friend." Roma shot him an incredulous look, opening his mouth to retort, but the emperor interrupted.

"You know this man, great Sage?" the emperor asked. "How?"

Van blinked. "Yes, I do know him. Roma was…is… my brother-in-heart," he explained quietly.

The emperor smiled at the man's admission, and then suggested "Then you will want to be reacquainted, yes?" The man smirked. "I can wait to speak with him. Go now, I grant you permission."

Van nodded, inclining his head to the emperor. "Certainly, your Excellency." He started to walk towards the small side door he had entered through earlier.

Roma saluted the Xingese man, murmuring "Imperātōr," as he did so. Then Roma turned and followed Van out the door. They traveled down a narrow passageway, eventually entering an opulent room. The walls were draped in fine fabrics and the scent of incense filled the air.

The two men stood, gazing at one another. Eventually Van sat, gesturing for Roma to sit as well. An awkward silence fell over the two men. Roma fidgeted nervously, and then a thought struck him.

Roma smirked and asked slyly in Xerxian, "So… great Sage, huh?"

Van rolled his eyes before replying in the same language. "The title was _not_ my idea, I assure you. These people are incredibly fond of over-pretentious monikers." He glanced at Roma, still rather startled at the sight of the handsome, cocky man in front of him as opposed to the rather reserved boy from his memory. He then added "And what about you? When we last met, you only had the one name. How on earth did you manage to acquire three additional ones since?"

Roma laughed. "Both Imperium and Augustus are really just titles, not names. Caesar…well… let's just say the name was offered freely, and the person who offered it was rather influential in my young adulthood." He gazed at his old friend, the usually jovial nation's expression becoming serious. "What happened, Van? What happened to Xerxes, and to you? How…how are you even still _alive_? You should have _at least_ died of old age by now, if whatever disaster struck Xerxes didn't kill you."

Hohenheim's lips quirked into a sort of melancholy half-smile as he replied "I could ask the same of you, you know. We both should have died centuries ago."

Roma shook his head. "You know time passes differently between here and there—often inconsistently. Besides, I… well, let's just say I omitted a few details when I told you about my role in my homeland."

Van raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Roma grinned sheepishly, but then gave Van a rather hard look. "I don't trust the Homunculus—I never have. Something about it just rubbed me the wrong way, I guess. I will only explain myself if you will promise that my true nature will never get back to him."

Van had stiffened at the first mention of Homunculus, and once Roma was finished speaking, he nodded, replying through clenched teeth "I assure you, old friend; Homunculus will never learn your secrets—not from me, at least."

Roma nodded back to him, satisfied with Van's answer (though curious at the anger in his mention of Homunculus). He leaned back onto a large cushion, trying to decide how best to approach this issue. After a moment, once his mind was made up, Roma began to speak.

"I told you that Imperium is a title of mine. Imperium is a _Latium_ word which simply means 'empire'. The city I was a resident of when we first met bore the name _Roma_, and the Caesars—from whom I procured my third name—were a ruling family in the _Roman __Empire_."

Van gaped at him, the bewilderment clear on his face. Roma could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "I don't… What on earth are you trying to imply?"

Roma sighed, straightening in his seat to assume a rather regal pose. "I am Roma, your friend, but I am also _Roman Empire_, the human personification of the IMPERIVM ROMANVM."

Van was no longer staring incredulously (which Roma took as a good sign) so Roma continued to explain his previous point. "My point is that I will live as long as my people still feel a sense of kinship with me as their nation—a sense of national pride, if you will. _You_, on the other hand, are an ordinary human. I had expected to track down your descendants and learn how you fared in life upon my return. I did not expect to find you living as a guest in a foreign nation."

He scowled. "I just don't understand._ You shouldn't still be alive!_ Not that I'm upset that you are—I'm ecstatic, actually—I just can't understand it. How could an ordinary mortal man still be alive after so long?" Roma was breathing hard, gazing at his friend as if in hopes of divining the answers he sought from the blonde's face.

Van had turned away from him sometime during his rant, and was examining his hands. "An ordinary mortal man," he mused. "I haven't been that in nearly two centuries."

Roma's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

And so Van did. He explained his own rise in Demoғ's household as well as the continued expectation for the young rising star to monitor Demoғ's most prized experiment, the Homunculus. He talked of Homunculus' repeated visits to speak with the king of Xerxes, and of how he had never been privy to what was discussed in those most secret meetings save the detail that the king desired immortality.

Van told of the escalating violence around Xerxes' borders; the tragedies that persisted over the next several years. Finally, Van described, in halting words, the fatal ritual, as well as its horrific result. Roma stared wide-eyed at his friend as the stoic man came nearly to tears as he explained that he could hear the voices of Xerxes' citizens crying out any time he was alone.

"That's why I enjoy the court," he said with an ironic smile. "As much as I would prefer my privacy, the intrusive mess of royal life does, at least, give me respite from my torture."

Roma had frowned at that, an idea flitting at the corners of his mind. "Have you tried talking to them?" he asked. At Van's confused gaze, Roma elaborated.

"From the instant of my…birth…I have been able to hear the voices of every citizen under my care. Their souls are bound up with mine in an unbreakable bond—if someone could find a way to actually kill me and prevent my body from totally healing itself within a matter of days, they would be committing genocide on a national level at the same time. On the other hand, if my citizens are hurt in any way, I hurt as well."

He paused, glancing at his friend. "Do you remember the strange illness I had about a year into my stay with you?" At Van's nod, Roma continued "Well, I collapsed because the king of my nation had been murdered in the heart of the city—the heart of my heart, if you will. Later, I always looked half-starved because the murderer had set himself up as tyrant and the people were suffering under his rule." Van quite honestly looked relieved that the mystery of so many years ago was solved and did not interrupt.

"The main differences between your situation and mine—as far as I can tell—is the fact that the manner in which the souls were bound to you was, in fact, intended to be painful and torturous for those involved. On top of that is the fact that you _are_ a human man and thus unable to cope with the extra burden of the lives caught up in and fueling yours."

Van was frowning contemplatively, and was obviously listening hard. Roma kept going. "I think that if you could communicate with some of the souls inside you—reach an accord of some type—that it would alleviate some of the pain on both sides. It will certainly be difficult—like I said before, the human soul isn't _designed_ to cope with that amount of stress—but you're strong-willed enough to at least reach some sort of agreement with a few of them."

Van nodded solemnly. "I will take you suggestions into consideration," he said formally. "I am very grateful for your help."

Roma grinned, waving it away. "No problem—that's what friends are for, ve~! Now!" His grin became just a tad frightening. "Would you like to hear about how I grew from a city-state with only a score of families living within my walls into an empire spanning multiple continents?"

**SoX~RE**

Roma stayed at the Xingese court for several months with minimal problems. The emperor thought he was hilarious, but at the same time admired his fighting skills. The man insisted on having Roma train some of his personal guard in Roma's combat style, a variant of traditional Roman hand-to-hand fighting mixed with anything the nation had picked up over the centuries (including some Xerxian fighting techniques).

He and Van had simply picked up where their old friendship had left off, and that too had gone splendidly. Both men were older, true, and had both been touched by hardship and tragedy, but their separate experiences also made it easier for each to council the other. Van had been fascinated by the idea that Roma was the personification of an entire empire of people, and had bombarded him with questions concerning his nonhuman nature.

Roma gladly described the experiences of being a nation—how Roma aged so much slower than everyone around him as well as the physical signs of his nation's health—and had been equally eager to describe his family of territories and provinces. He delighted in praising his 'children' and 'grandchildren', explaining how he had fought so hard to gain possession of little Britannia, how Julius Caesar's zeal had secured Briton's neighbor Gaul for him, and how close he had been to the province who held his birthplace—his darling Chibitalia. The one thing Roma never mentioned was his reason for returning to this universe.

It steadily grew more difficult to hide, however. Roma had begun wasting away, and only avoided being confined to his bed through sheer strength of will-power. Due to Van's frequent questioning, the Xerxian man knew more than enough about the physiology of a nation to realize that something was terribly wrong, and it didn't take long for him to confront his increasingly sickly and progressively more evasive companion. Unfortunately, that confrontation came too late.

Roma scowled in contemplation at his wan reflection as he walked around the small pond in one of the emperor's many gardens. He knew very well how unhealthy he looked. Roma's cheeks were sunken and there were large dark rings around his eyes. His skin had taken on a sickly, waxy hue and the nation's form was almost horrifically emancipated as Roma was gradually starved to death due to the systematic deterioration of his connections to the citizens that gave him life. Those links were dying province by province, territory by territory, and Roma was dying with them.

It was a long and tortuous process, and Roma was in constant pain. He didn't know how many years had passed back home in Mater Terra6, but he felt as though it had been a while. Not quite a century, but more than a decade. He occasionally wondered how Chibitalia was coping with his absence—the boy was such a dependent little thing.

Roma knew that Hoenheim was suspicious—he'd have been an idiot to not be, with Roma's condition—but Van thankfully hadn't deduced the exact nature of Roma's "illness" just yet. Roma scowled, still gazing morosely at his wasted features in the clear glass pond when a hand grasped his shoulder.

"Alright there, Roma?" Van asked. Roma gave him a weak smile that bore more resemblance to a grimace than the usually cheerful man's ordinary grin, and did not answer. Van heaved a sigh. "I wish you'd just tell me what's wrong, Roma," he murmured. "Isn't there _anything_ I can to help you?"

Roma sighed as well. "No," he replied. "There is nothing you—or anyone—can do to help."

Van shook his head, almost acting deliberately dense. "But why? Surely there's some sort of cure. I mean, it's not as if you're…" Hoenheim trailed off, leaving the word '_dying_' unspoken as he realized that was exactly what was happening.

The Xerxian turned to gaze at his friend. The emancipated figure before him now was a mere shadow of the man Roma had been only a few weeks ago. Van had noticed that something was wrong, but hadn't pressed the matter. He had reassured himself with reminders that Roma wasn't exactly a normal man; that it would take tremendous effort (and an enormous army) to even injure the world power, but doubts still remained; growing louder the weaker Roma became. Van couldn't stand it—after all the tragedy he had gone through in his life, was he to lose his best friend now as well?

"Roma…" Van trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Roma gave his friend a self-deprecating smile. "It's alright, Van. This is all my own fault, anyway."

Hoenheim frowned, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Roma shook his head. "I was an idiot—but I did not know it. It's funny…" he broke off, doubling over from a wracking cough, before straightening and giving Van an ironic smile.

"It's funny," he repeated. "I though all my wealth and fame would last forever. I thought I could unite the whole world under Rome's banner. Then, one day I woke up and knew I was just a part of history; that my end was near. It may seem like the coward's way out, coming here, but no one knows what happens to a nation when he dies. I just couldn't leave my little ones behind—what if they need me? They're all still so young and small, and I couldn't bear to lose any of them. They're my family."

He smiled at Van then; a real, warm smile filled with affection. "Most nations lose touch with our people, you know. We lose sight of the fact that we practically _are_ human, and forget what that means." He gazed steadily back out over the pond. "I forgot for a time, but remembering you always helped me remember that I was more than a mindless war machine or some mad emperor's pet. You helped me remember that I was an individual too."

Roma doubled over coughing again, and looked startled to see blood on his hands. He placed one hand on his abdomen. "Constantinople…" he whispered. Then, Roma let out a faintly hysterical laugh, his lips stained red with his own blood.

Van was alarmed. He held Roma tightly by the shoulders, startled to realize that his hands were the only things keeping the nation on his feet. "Roma! Roma, what—?"

Roma simply laughed again, coughing up more blood. Van eased him to the ground, resting the nation's head in his lap. "Roma…" he whispered helplessly.

"Constantinople." Roma said again, clearly.

Van started at the sudden clarity in Roma's previously dim eyes. "What's Constantinople?"

Roma smiled at him vacantly. "It's my last capital. Rome's gone, it's the only one left—Aah!" he cried out suddenly, doubling over in pain. Blood was now seeping out onto his tunic; Van could see a gaping hole in Roma's stomach that was singeing around the edges as if on fire, but there was no flame.

"Roma, hold on!" Van shouted, placing him hastily on the ground. Van began drawing a complex matrix in the dirt around him, hoping that his research involving the Dragon's Pulse had been correct about it curing almost any injury.

"Come on, come on, _work!_" he muttered as he began the transmutation. Blue energy crackled to life around him, but Hoenheim was temporarily distracted by the hand now gripping his bicep.

"It's okay, Van. Everything's going to be alright." Roma promised, echoing the words Van himself had whispered to the nation a millennia ago. He struggled for a moment, obviously wracked with pain.

"Take it!" the dying empire finally managed to gasp out. Van frowned, confused. Roma felt a sense of urgency. He saw the conquering and felt the pain and the death of the last remnant of the Roman Empire, but he wasn't gone yet. There was a multitude of voices shouting in his mind and heart. Each one spoke a different language, and each one clamored to be heard. It was the smallest and softest voice, however, which Roma finally recognized. _"Il nonno, il nonno torna indietro! Non mi lasciare, il nonno Roma!"_[7]

Then, he heard another voice, this time in a language he had learned through unnatural means. "Roma, Roma ju baechi, nai aғ ve'tores ju smetis tabner! Tares nai—napris hi ju moges; ju moges maғe scio!"[8]

He wanted to answer both voices. One was young and innocent; his little angel not yet touched by the cruelty of the world. The other was filled with darkness and pain, pain Roma wanted to take away. Roma could hear the voices of all the great people of ancient Rome agreeing with him as he reached inside the man's very soul and tried to bring peace to him.

He smiled as he received a notion of success, only to have his thoughts again interrupted by that insistent little voice. _"Il nonno Roma! Ti amo; per favore non mi lasciare. Stai con me."_[9]

"_Licuit, filiolum."_[10] Roma replied in a reassuring manner. As he spoke, his accent changed, and (without Roma's notice) so did his language. _"Io starò con te._ _Roma sarà uno con l'Italia ancora una volta."_[11] Roma felt strange, almost peaceful, and then he fell into darkness.

**VH~SoX**

Van Hoenheim smiled down at the letter written in Xerxian in his hands. It was nice, he mused, to know that his old friend was doing well. He gazed at the pictures that had accompanied the missive. There were two—one depicting a brunette youth in a blue uniform clinging to a tall blonde soldier, the other with the darker-haired doppelgänger of the brunette smirking at an older boy holding an armful of tomatoes.

"Hoenheim?" a soft voice asked. The former Xerxian turned to see his beautiful young lover watching him from the doorway. Trisha walked over to him, taking one of the pictures in curiosity. "What's this?" she said, looking bemused.

Hoenheim smiled at her. "Those are Roma's grandsons. You remember Roma, don't you?"

She laughed. "How could I not? He flirted with every girl in Resembool during his visit." Trisha ran her fingers over the photographs. "So these are his grandsons…they look so much like him. Who are the men with them?"

Hoenheim pointed to the tall blonde man. "That's Germany…apparently his grandfather was an old friend of Roma's. The other fellow is one of Roma's adopted kids…Hispania, I think."

Trisha smiled up at him. "I think it's sweet how both of you keep up with each other." She turned away, still looking at the pictures. "Have you sent him any pictures of the family?"

"Uh…I don't think so… before you had that photo taken the other day we didn't actually have any pictures of the whole family, remember?"

Trisha nodded. "Hmmm…"

Hoenheim looked back down at the letter, returning to his reminiscing.

After Roma had blacked out during his fit in the Xingese emperor's garden, Van had been in an absolute panic. Roma's body had begun to look transparent—almost fading away. Van knew that his friend had died, but he wasn't ready to give up on Roma yet. He tried alkeheistry again.

Then, almost like magic, the nation's body had become solid and he started breathing once more. Van carried Roma in to his quarters, and there discovered another problem. Roma was invisible to most people. The emperor could see him, but with most people it seemed to be chance whether Roma was visible to that person or not. Van later learnt that people with a greater belief in the supernatural had a higher likelihood of seeing Roma. Children could always see him.

Despite his apparent restored health, Roma did not wake. He remained in a coma for almost a year before he finally awoke.

Roma stayed in Xing with Van for nearly twenty years. The two realised that without the provision of a nation of people granting him sustenance Roma had actual need to eat and drink, whereas before it had just been a pleasure (rather than a necessity). Roma was delighted, however, to find that no longer being connected to thousands of people enabled him to practice alkeheistry, though he still could not perform traditional alchemy.

Over the course of his time in Xing, Roma also eventually learned the consequences of Van's interference with his near-death.

Very little was truly known about nations. No-one really understood where personifications came from. There was no explanation of how they were "born", or what happened to them when they "died". The impulses and obsessions that characterised a nation's behaviour were often shrouded in mystery, and no-one had discovered the full extent of a nation's powers and capabilities yet.

Likewise, there was no way of determining what would happen if a dying nation came into contact with a human Philosopher's Stone.

When Van had performed alkeheistry on Roma, their "souls" had momentarily crossed over one another. In that instant, Roma's soul (which consisted of every person to have ever lived as a member of the Roman Empire) mistook Van for another nation-personification because of the Xerxian souls trapped within him. Roma had also subconsciously recognized the turmoil and torture which all half a million souls (including Van's own) were enduring, and desired to alleviate their pain.

The alkeheistry methods Van was using were incredibly experimental, and had never been tested in such a manner, so unexpected results were not, in fact, unexpected. It turned out that Roma had simply unconsciously reversed the flow of Dragon's Pulse and had, in his distress, accidently altered the very composition of Van's soul. Roma had somehow managed to accidently turn Van into the personification of the nation of Xerxes.

Van's body was still human, and he still was required to contact and speak with every soul in his body before they all had peace, but the souls inside him were no longer tormented simply by being trapped within the Stone. They were inside their country, inside their homeland.

Van could also faintly sense the rest of Xerxes on the other side of the desert, trapped inside Homunculus. He tried not to think about them too much. Van knew that there was currently nothing he could do for them, and thinking of his own helplessness in that situation upset him greatly.

Hoenheim still had all the abilities of a Philosopher's Stone, but the two men quickly noticed that he had become more like a nation as well.

His appearance changed slightly, eradicating anything which was not Xerxian. Van also found himself growing stronger, gaining both greater reflexes and more heightened senses than he had originally possessed.

He also began wearing glasses. Van had no idea why (it wasn't as though he needed glasses to see), other than the fact that it felt right. Roma had laughed it off, and then told another story about his life as a nation—this time about the obsession with red capes Roma had gained during Julius Caesar's conquest of Gaul that lasted through his death. Long story short—nations would get random fetishes and manias which had obscure meaning and would last for centuries.

The two men were happy living together in Xing, but eventually Roma began to wonder how his children and grandchildren were coping without him, and returned to his world. This time, though, he took Van with him.

The pair had travelled all over the earth. They had both been startled to realize that even some of the younger nations couldn't see Roma; though in the case of the nations it was simply a matter of unbelief.

Roma also discovered that he could "grant permission" for someone to be able to see him, and he could then revoke that "permission". The two had a great deal of fun pranking people exploring Roman ruins. They found it highly amusing that most people assumed Van was Apollo, the god of the sun.

After some time, the two had gone their separate ways, meeting occasionally in Xing or the new nation to the southwest, Amestris. It was in Amestris that Van had met his friend Pinako, who had later introduced him to Trisha Elric. The nation had made a quiet life in the village of Resembool with the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with.

Hoenheim had been anxious, however, at the idea of living on without Trisha. He wanted to keep her with him, even if that desire was quite selfish. He managed to engineer a special seal that combined alchemy, alkeheistry, and the intrinsic power in a nation-personification to bind a person's soul to a single individual.

This seal was not new, though—it was actually the Xerxian crest. After Hoenheim had begun transforming into a nation, he had noticed one day that, suddenly, the previously unintelligible script made perfect sense. It wasn't something he could explain or work out; he could just woke up one day able to read it as though the script was plain Xerxian.

It was as though the crest had taken on a new life. Roma had explained it best: "That crest was the symbol—the _embodiment_—of everything Xerxian. Now you are that embodiment, so the crest is a written representation of _you_. As long as you are Xerxes, the crest will be you."

The theory behind Hoenheim's seal was that as long as the one who created the seal still lived, the bonded would not be able to truly die. If the bonded suffered a physical death then their soul would form a new body and they would exist in a similar state to Roma—almost like a corporeal ghost, only without the ability to appear to whoever they wished.

When Hoenheim had mentioned the theory to Trisha, she had been astoundingly enthusiastic to attempt it. With her permission, he had placed the seal on her. Van just hoped they never needed to test his theory. He would much rather die with his wife and children than remain immortal, now.

More time had passed, and Van had introduced his lover to Roma. Roma had, expectedly, flirted with every eligible and non-eligible girl in Resembool and had drunk all the regular pub-goers under the table. He had even been witness to the birth of Hoenheim's eldest son, Edward, before returning to earth.

Lately, though, another concern that was connected to his nation status had risen in Hohenheim's mind. His sons, Edward and Alphonse, were the children of a nation/Philosopher's Stone and a mortal woman. There was really no telling what sort of havoc had been wreaked with their genetics, but recently Hoenheim had grown worried.

Ed was growing slower than a normal boy. Despite being nearly two years older than his brother Alphonse, Ed appeared to be about the same age—he looked four instead of almost six. Ed was also unnaturally strong and intelligent for such a young boy.

The suspicions had begun to form in his mind shortly after Alphonse was born. Al appeared to be a totally normal toddler, but he was incredibly attached to Ed. Edward, likewise, seemed to think _he_ was Al's parent, and made valiant attempts to act as such despite his own extreme youth. It could just be a strong fraternal bond, but if it _wasn't_…

Hoenheim stared down at the letter.

He needed to talk to Roma. His old friend would be able to confirm whether Ed was a nation. Besides, Roma had raised dozens of nation-children; he would know what to do.

Van also hoped that his old friend would be willing to help him with his plans to stop Homunculus' plans concerning Amestris. As long as there was the slightest chance that either of his sons was the personification of Amestris, he would do everything in his power to protect the country.

Hoenheim walked into the room where his sons were lying asleep and watched them for a moment. Even if the boys weren't nations now, Van was afraid that prolonged exposure to him would turn them into nations in a similar manner to the way he himself had been transformed.

Hoenheim sighed, turning to walk out the bedroom door. Maybe he would fix up the old swing before he told Trisha he had decided to leave; the boys really enjoyed playing on it, and Trisha had been worried lately about how unstable it was beginning to look…

* * *

**What do you think?**

**Because there was so much foreign stuff, I left footnotes for you to follow. Just find the corresponding number to know what the ppl are saying. :)**

**[1] "-ulo? Saғulo?" = "-lo? Hello?" & "Ju kamin coles?" = "Are you alright?" (Xerxian)**

**[2] "Ubi…sum? Quo tuum es?" = "Where…am I? Who are you?" (Latin)**

**[3] "Scire Cselkessan tores? Maғe cole Cselkessan." = "Do you know Xerxian? I am Xerxian." (Xerxian)**

**[4] "Quid infernum? Quidnam illud est?" = "What the hell? What is that/it?" (Latin)**

**[5] Domine = Master/Lord. It is used as a sign of respect or reverence. (Latin)**

**[6] "Hohenheim Van! Metrom maғe dinii ju colisti." = "Van Hohenheim! I thought you were dead." & "Ju ve'tores aғ scis?" = "Don't you know me?****" (Xerxian)**

**[7] "Il nonno, il nonno, torna indietro! Non mi lasciare, il nonno Roma!" = "Grandpa, Grandpa, come back! Don't leave me, Grandpa Rome!" (Italian)**

**[8] "Roma, Roma ju baechi, nai aғ ve'tores ju smetis tabner! Tares nai—napris hi ju moges; ju moges maғe scio!" = "Roma, Roma you idiot, don't you dare die on me! Come on—you can make it; I know you can!" (Xerxian)**

**[9] "Il nonno Roma! Ti amo; per favore non mi lasciare. Stai con me." = "Grandpa Rome! I love you; please don't leave me. Stay with me." (Italian)**

**[10] "Licuit, filiolum." = "Alright, little son." (Latin)**

**[11] "Io starò con te. Roma sarà uno con l'Italia ancora una volta." = "I will stay with you. Rome will be one with Italy once again." (Italian)**

**Just as a warning, I don't know a whit of Italian, and I only know enough Latin to get by. That being said, all Italian in this story was done by Google translate, and I was kinda guessing for the Latin.**

**The Xerxian is a collaborative effort by myself and my dear friends Porthos and Athos.**

**Well, I hope you all like it! Review and tell me your opinions. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya everyone! Sorry about the wait on this one; my betas didn't return it to me until this weekend. :) This chapter introduced Ed and Al!**

**Oh, by the way, I go more by the FMA Brotherhood anime instead of the manga. There aren't many differences, just a few things that change in translation, as always.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood or Hetalia. *sob***

* * *

**Son of Xerxes, Soul of Amestris**

**or**

**What Happens When Rome is Bored**

_Chapter 2_

The misshapen creature spoke in a hollow, yet childish voice. "Ed…ward… Ed…ward… Big…Bro…ther… Big Brother Ed…"

The golden eyes grew wide in shock as Edward Elric gazed at the chimera Shou Tucker had made. He heard the strange whisper of a familiar voice crying out in his mind. _'Big Brother! Help me; I'm scared!'_

Ed stiffened, staring into the chimera's eyes. "Mr. Tucker," he said icily, "remind me; when did you get your state certification, again?"

Tucker put his hand on his chin. "Let's see…it was two years ago."

Edward stood slowly. "And when did your wife leave you?" he asked, still staring at the chimera.

Tucker lowered his hand. "That was two years ago too," he replied calmly.

"Can I ask you one more question?" Ed asked. "Nina and Alexander." He turned, pinning Tucker with a furious glare. "Where are they?" Alphonse's helmet snapped up, and a gasp echoed within it.

"Damn brat, figuring it out so quickly," Tucker muttered.

Edward lunged at him, slamming the man into the wall and shoving his forearm into Tucker's neck. "Brother!" Alphonse shouted.

"Oh yeah, I figured it out. You did it again. Two years ago it was your wife," Ed growled, ignoring how the man struggled for breath. His golden eyes glowed darkly with repressed fury. "Now you used your own daughter and her dog to create a talking chimera!"

Alphonse gasped again, turning to stare at the chimera.

"You can only do so much with animals after all," Edward said sarcastically. "It's much easier when you start with a human, _isn't that right_?" Ed shouted, tightening his grip on Tucker.

"I don't see what you're so upset about," Tucker replied, frenzied suddenly. "It's how we humans progress—human experimentation is a necessary step. I would think a scientist would understand…"

Edward heard the words spoken, clear as day, within his mind. _'I have made a great discovery for science! Why can't he understand the significance of my accomplishment? The fool!'_ Ed's eyes widened in bewilderment, but he still yelled, "Shut up! Do you really think you can get away with this? Messing around with someone's life like that? Your own daughter?"

"Someone's life, you say?" Tucker responded, laughing maniacally. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Look at you,_ Fullmetal Alchemist_. Look at your leg, your arm, your brother! Those are also results from messing around with someone's life, wouldn't you say?"

Edward growled again furiously. "Shut up!" He slammed his automail fist into Tucker's face, breaking his glasses and knocking them to the ground.

"We are the same," Tucker exclaimed with a mad laugh. "We're the same!" He turned his head, blood streaming down his mouth. "You're just like me."

"We're not!" Ed shouted.

"Oh, but yes we are. The opportunity was right in front of us, and we took it. We had to even though we knew it was against the rules!" Tucker shouted wildly to Edward, who had begun to shake.

Ed trembled as a strange sensation came over him. He was glaring at Tucker, but then, it was as if he _was_ Tucker. The man's sick, smug glee pervaded his senses, mingling with the bewilderment and terror consuming Nina.

'_We're the same! You're just like me.'_ Edward kept hearing Tucker's voice, and reacted with pain and horror and confusion.

"No!" Ed shouted, punching Tucker again. "Not me!" He slammed his fist into the man's bleeding face again. "Alchemist's don't…" Edward hit him again. "Do that…" and again. "I'm not…" the boy whispered, Tucker's blood splattered on his face.

He cried out furiously, heartbrokenly "I'm not!" His fist came forward to hit Tucker again, but it was caught in his brother's armored hand.

"Brother, don't. If you keep this up, he'll die." Ed trembled in anger, refusing to let Tucker go, until a small nose nudged his side. Ed's expression changed to horror as he gazed down at Nina.

"Daddy," it wheezed. Edward let go of Tucker, dropping him on the ground. "Daddy hurt? Dad, do you hurt?" Ed turned away, overrun with thoughts and emotions not his own. It was all too much to comprehend. He fell into a daze.

Edward never noticed that Alphonse had gone to call Eastern Command for back-up, nor did he hear the apology Al gave to Nina. He was only briefly roused when he heard Tucker muttering to himself, "I made it in time… I can be a State Alchemist again. I passed!"

Ed saw the deranged alchemist cradling his Watch as though it was something precious, and something inside him snapped. He snatched it away, tossing it across the room. The man crawled pitifully after it, but all Edward felt was disgust and fury.

"Like hell you're staying a State Alchemist. _Like hell._" He could almost hear a multitude of people agreeing with him.

Deep in the bowels of Central Command, in a room where the records for past and present are kept, one folder slowly blackened and crumbled until all that was left was a fine powder where the application, acceptance form, and progress reports of one Shou Tucker, Sewing-Life Alchemist, should have been. Later, when investigators went to search through his files, they were puzzled to find that any document in any location across the country which had designated Shou Tucker as a State Alchemist had suffered the same fate.

Ed heard a small, childish plea. "Can we…play now?" Edward couldn't bear to look at the little girl he felt as though he had failed tremendously. He turned away, a pained cry tearing from his lips.

**EE~SoA~AE**

Edward and Alphonse were sitting in the rain on the stairs that led down from the main building at Eastern Command. Colonel Mustang walked up, talking to Lieutenant Hawkeye. Ed heard the tail end of their conversation as they left the building.

"…Mr. Tucker's actions and our own might not be far apart when it comes to interfering with people's lives." Mustang's boots splashed in the mud. "We choose our own path, knowing full well what we are doing. That's the way it is," He paused, turning to Ed. "Right, Fullmetal?"

Edward gazed up at his superior. Despite never having been able to read the man before, he could somehow tell that Mustang's words were tinged with a repressed sense of guilt. A voice whispered at the corners of his mind. _'We call him a monster, but we were made to do much worse things in the name of war and government. I'm such a hypocrite.'_ Ed looked away at the dreary landscape, listening to Colonel Mustang's words, though also contemplating the whisper.

He had always heard them: small voices in the darkness of his mind that whispered about everything, from what they wanted for dinner to how easy it would be to use a bathroom razor to end it all. As a young child, Edward had become rather desensitized to other people's misery, so used to the cacophony in his head, and had become blunt and rude.

After the failed transmutation, however, the voices had vanished. The silence had been gratefully received, and Ed had thought nothing more of it. He had also learned how to function in an ordinary society, which was useful to know even though he didn't use the etiquette often… '_It's all too damn formal for me,'_ he thought to himself. Honestly, Ed had begun to think that the whispers were a figment of his wild childhood imagination, and nothing more. But now they were back…

Edward abruptly shook himself mentally, turning his attention back to Mustang, who hadn't noticed his lapse.

"You will more than likely come across cases like this again in the future," the colonel said sternly, continuing down the stairs with Riza at his side. "And you may end up having to get your own hands dirty as well. Are you going to shut down every time?"

The rain continued to fall. "We may be called Dogs of the military," Edward whispered. "We may even be cursed as devils—it doesn't matter. Al and I are still going to get our bodies back." He gripped his red jacked, staring down at his gloved hands. "We know the truth." He knew that Mustang and Riza had stopped walking, listening. He kept talking.

"We know we're not devils. We know we're not gods." He stood up, head still bowed. "We're human." He looked up at the sky, shouting, "We're only human!"

There was a sharp pain somewhere inside him, and a hidden part deep inside him knew Nina and Tucker were dead. Tears streamed down his face. "We can't even do anything to save one innocent little girl. So what good are we, then?"

Edward stood drenched in the rain, and cried.

**EE~SoX~AE**

The two Elric brothers were once again sitting outside in the rain. Alphonse was stunned. He couldn't believe that Nina was dead. Edward, on the other hand, couldn't believe he had already known. The golden-haired boy began wondering if there was something wrong with him. Knowing that a person was about to attack you a split second before they actually did was one thing, but knowing when people died was another…and was quite disturbing, to boot.

Alphonse sat silently, giving his brother quiet support while incapable of expressing their grief himself. He only spoke when Ed began coughing. "Brother? Don't you think we should go inside now? You haven't fully recovered from your cold, after all."

Edward scowled at the reminder. He had caught a chest cold during his time in Central; the very same night MacDougal tried to freeze Central Command over, in fact. Ed had hidden it from Alphonse, but his younger brother had discovered it anyway on the way back from Liore.

After Al had figured out his big brother was ill, he went all mother-hen on him, and, though Ed adored his little brother, there was only so much one could take before snapping. Medicine didn't help, and it wasn't as if Edward getting sick was _unusual_. Quite the contrary—in his early youth especially Ed had had a history of continual illness that lasted through nearly the entire Eastern Conflict with Ishval. Edward was only glad that his brother hadn't been present to find Ed's newest injury.

A sore had appeared without explanation on his upper arm shortly after they had left Liore. It was small, but painful, and it had been growing larger and more painful with each passing day. This morning, Edward had been alarmed to find that the sore was bleeding badly, bruising spreading all down his arm and even on his side a bit. He had bandaged it up the best he could, but the strange wound worried him. Its inexplicable appearance and behavior reminded Edward entirely too much of the strange gashes and burns which had periodically appeared on his side for a large portion of his childhood. Ed just knew the mysterious wound didn't mean anything good.

He sighed, trying to put the thoughts of his mystifying capacity for illness and injury out of his mind. Edward sighed again, heavily, and then began to speak.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time. We put all our trust in alchemy, but in the end, what is it?" Ed asked quietly. "'Alchemy is the science of understanding matter and its laws, the process of comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction. The world flows too and it must also follow laws, everything circulates. Even death is part of that circulation. You must accept the flow.' Teacher sure drilled that into our heads, didn't she?"

Edward's eyes were downcast as he continued to speak. "I thought I understood it, but I didn't understand anything. Mom proves that." He sighed, whispering, "And now here I am again, trying desperately to figure out a way to do the impossible." An image of Nina hugging Alexander appeared in his mind's eye.

"I'm such a hopeless idiot. All this time, I haven't grown up one bit. I thought maybe the rain would wash away some of this gloom that's following me, but right now, every drop that hits my face is even more depressing."

Alphonse looked up at the sky. "I don't even get that much. Without a body, I can't feel the rain hitting my face. That's something I miss all the time. I want to get my body back soon, brother. I just want to be human again, even if it means going against the flow of the world and doing the impossible."

Edward nodded, placing a sympathetic hand on his brother's armor. Without warning, lightning flashed across the sky and Ed stiffened, looking up to see a dark-skinned man wearing a pair of sunglasses. The stranger bore a distinctive white "X" shaped scar across his whole face.

"You, boy, you're the Fullmetal Alchemist, correct?" a low voice asked. Edward inclined his head, still rather surprised to find someone standing so close in front of them. He wondered how long the man had been stopped there, listening to their conversation.

"Brother!" Alphonse suddenly shouted in alarm. Ed jumped up, flying through the air as his brother caught him and pulled him away. The next several minutes all seemed to be a blur as he frantically fought for his life, running all over East City to avoid this stranger who seemed so intent on ending Edward's life.

He didn't understand; why was this man trying to kill him? He had never _avoided_ making enemies, but he didn't think any of them should want to kill him! Besides, Ed couldn't remember having ever met this stranger before, and he was equally sure he would not have forgotten such a singular character.

As Edward jumped around, avoiding the agile stranger's hands he discovered something unusual. Well, it was three things, really.

Firstly, Ed found that he heard almost no whispers now. Just the usual quiet one that had never left him and that sounded like his brother, worrying about the danger Edward was in yet again, and another voice, a new one speaking in a rough, unfamiliar language. This voice was filled with rage and sorrow—it sounded half-mad. Ed was rather afraid of it, and hoped this voice didn't stay long.

The next strange thing he noticed was that despite the fact that this stranger was (inexplicably) trying to kill him; Edward could sense an odd _draw_ toward him, as though the tall dark-skinned man was—no, wrong word—_could be_ very important. How, Ed had no idea, but as the youth had only managed to survive life in the military as long as he had by acting on his bizarre instincts and impressions he wasn't about to stop trusting them now. Edward decided to investigate this strange pull and determine its meaning. Of course, that would be much easier if the stranger would just _stop fighting!_

The final realization didn't occur until the man had managed to injure Alphonse and was chasing Ed out into an empty street again. The stranger expressed his surprise at Edward's automail arm. "That explains why my attacks weren't doing the damage expected…" he murmured. Then, Ed finally caught his breath enough to vocalize his unnatural epiphany.

"You're Ishvalan!"

The newly-identified Ishvalan paused, the rage-filled voice suddenly falling silent. "What of it?" he asked emotionlessly. There came a tiny, unnerved whisper, and this time Ed understood it despite the language difference. _How could the boy have known that? My eyes are covered and there's no other way to recognize an Ishvalan by sight._

Edward himself had to stifle a gasp at the whisper's words. A suspicion began to form in his mind. "You…" Ed stared in bewilderment.

The man lunged at him, and Edward blurted out, "You used to be a two-tier priest of the Order of Ishvala! Your father was set to be the next high priest!" That had been one of the impressions he had gained while listening to the voice's angry mutterings earlier. He knew that this was crazy, but it was the only method Ed knew to test his barely-formed theory.

The stranger froze, gaping at Edward. "How…how do you know _that_?"

Edward's eyes widened as well. "You mean…it's real? It's all _real?_" he murmured in a sort of stupor. The man frowned, but said nothing. Ed continued talking.

"I've always heard voices—whispers in the back of my mind. They talked all the time; they told me useful things sometimes, but occasionally they would talk about things I never would have wanted to know. Happy stories, sad tales…whose purses they planned on stealing that day; what they wanted to eat… Sometimes, I would feel emotions with the voices; I would get a sense of what they felt, and how they felt it.

I get…impressions too. When I see people. I look at someone and I know things from their past, their present—sometimes I even get a sense of that person's potential, what they could become if they really tried. That's how I knew how upset my mom was when Dad left," he murmured, comprehension rising like a tidal wave in him. "And that's how I knew that Teacher was the best person to teach us alchemy, and… and how I know that occasionally Col. Mustang stares at his gun and wishes he had the courage to pull the trigger, he feels so guilty about Ishval."

The Ishvalan had stiffened when he mentioned Mustang, but he was now standing as still as stone, staring Edward down with an inscrutable look on his face. Ed, however, did not notice him. The boy was gazing down at his mismatched hands, still speaking as though he was in a trance.

"I could feel them both, you know," he whispered. "Tucker…he was so damn smug—he thought he had done something great." Edward's hand's clenched into fists. "And Nina, Nina was so scared…"

The teenager gazed up at the Ishvalan man. "She asked me to help her. _Begged_ me to help. I could hear her crying all night, but there was nothing I could do. I failed her…" Saying the words aloud seemed to make it worse. "I _failed_ her! I failed my…my…"

Edward trailed off, searching for a word that properly described his feelings for Nina. With a start, the boy-alchemist realized that he felt the same way about Mustang, and Hawkeye…and even this furious, vengeful man who wanted to kill him, though the connection to the Ishvalan was much more distant.

The man shifted slightly, an expression of curiosity appearing on his face. "Who _are_ you?" he exclaimed.

Ed stared back at the stranger his own bewilderment obvious in the lost expression filling his singular golden eyes. "I…I don't know. I thought I knew, but…"

The man gave him another scrutinizing glare. "You are an interesting child. It is a pity you must die, but all State Alchemists must pay for their crimes." He leapt forward, missing Edward's head by an instant.

"No!" Alphonse shouted. "Run, brother! Get out of here!"

"No, you idiot! I'm not going to leave you behind!" Edward shouted back while skidding out of the Ishvalan's reach. Meanwhile, the man watched expressionlessly as Ed transmuted the metal guard on his automail arm into a blade.

"I see…" he whispered suddenly. "You form a circle by placing the palms of your hands together… So first," He lunged forward again, grasping Ed's right arm and promptly shattering it, "I must destroy this abhorrent right arm of yours."

Edward gasped in alarm, stumbling backwards. He turned and tried to run, but fell to the ground, unbalanced from his missing arm. Ed tried desperately to crawl away, but fell over again, disoriented.

Edward winced, still crouched on the ground, as the Ishvalan walked over to him. "Hey, mister, tell me—is it just me you're after, or are you going to try to kill my brother too?"

The man paused, staring down at him, before stating calmly, "You are the only one receiving judgment today, Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed was silent for a moment. His 'sense' was telling him that while whatever the stranger planned to do to him would hurt, the Ishvalan man did not have the power to kill him. Having made his decision, Edward gazed up at the man above him.

"Then I want you to promise me," he said, equally calm, though his strained undertone displayed how badly his brother's increasingly panicked cries were affecting him, "promise me that you'll leave my brother alone."

Ed winced as he heard Alphonse cry out "No!" As the man's hand lowered to cover Edward's face, the cries grew even more desperate. "Stop it! Brother! _Brother_!"

The stranger rested his hand on Ed's face, and for a split second Edward sensed the strange pull between them wax into a peculiar connection, almost as though an invisible cord was now connecting them, before his world exploded in pain.

There was the sound of an explosion, then simultaneous screams of alarm and frustration. The pain intensified to a pure, cutting agony that paralyzed him with its sheer intensity. Ed heard voices—voices above him and voices inside him, all shouting in distress. The vision in one eye seemed to clear for a moment as the burning pain receded slightly, and he saw Col. Mustang standing over him, looking worried.

"Hang on, Fullmetal!" he demanded, his voice echoed strangely by another whisper in Ed's own mind. "Just hang in there," the man said, looking Edward in the eye for an instant before darkness spread across the boy's vision and Ed passed out from the pain.

**How was it? Yea/Nay?**

**Anyone want to venture a guess as to what the "connection" is between Ed and Scar?**

**Review!**


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